Of Babies and Jumpers and Christmas
by anxiousgoat
Summary: It's Christmas Eve. Hermione's working, Harry's enjoying time with the baby, and Ron's worrying about hosting the family Christmas for the first time. It's all going to be fine though, because this is just a lot of fluff. Written for the 'Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them' podcast's Christmas '19 comp. Prompts: - Weasley Jumper - Milk - Someone worrying about a present.


**Of Babies and Jumpers and Christmas**

Ron slid out of bed and padded into the next room, where little Rose's whimpers were rising into wails. He picked her up and cuddled her against him, rocking her gently while he heated her milk with a wave of his wand. A glance at the clock showed him how early it was, and he heaved a little sigh as he plumped down in the rocking chair with baby and bottle. By the time he heard Hermione moving around in the bedroom next door, Rose was fast asleep on his chest and Ron's own eyes were drifting closed too.

Some time later, he opened them again as Hermione came in, work robes neat and clean, briefcase in hand. He smiled and got up carefully.

"Harry's still asleep in there," she murmured. "Honestly, he works much too hard."

"Says the woman setting off for work at seven o'clock in the morning on Christmas Eve," said Ron, grinning at her. Hermione sniffed.

"That's different."

"Of course it is."

"It is. I like my job," said Hermione, and that wiped the grin off Ron's face, because although they both knew how important Harry believed his role as an Auror was, they also knew how stressed it made him. But Ron didn't want to discuss that right now, so he just said,

"You should still take more time off. It's Christmas Eve!"

"I'll try to leave early." Hermione leant in and kissed him warmly. "But you know Christmas is the worst time for House Elves. I've got to be there."

"I know," said Ron. Hermione's fierce dedication to her work was one of the reasons he loved her so much. He pulled her in for another kiss, then she dropped a feather-light one on the top of Rose's head and was gone.

Ron lowered himself back into the rocking chair and reached out for his knitting, a half-finished jumper in scarlet with a bright yellow dragon on it. For Charlie. The rest of the jumpers lay in a neat pile in the bedroom, waiting to be wrapped. It was something he'd decided to do the moment they'd begun thinking about how Christmas would be celebrated without the Weasley matriarch.

Molly Weasley had always done everything, especially during the festive season. The entire Weasley clan, now much expanded with partners and children, though always with a painful gap where Fred had once been, would descend noisily on The Burrow. Molly had loved it. Hermione, who had had a brief enthusiasm for reading Muggle books about psychology, said that hospitality was Molly's love language, and that made a lot of sense to Ron.

He knitted steadily for nearly two hours, at which point the door was pushed open and Harry shuffled in, glasses askew and hair standing on end.

"Morning," he said, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses and knocking them even more crooked. Ron smiled.

"Morning," he replied, and Rose, woken by their voices, emitted a loud shriek. Harry's face lit up.

"Hey, Rosie-Posie-Wosie," he said, extracting her from Ron's arms and his knitting. Ron stretched and yawned while Harry kissed the tip of Rose's nose. "Do you need changing?" he cooed. "I think you do, yes you do."

Ron made for the bathroom, knowing that Harry wouldn't even notice he was gone. Hours at the Auror department were long and hard, and Harry never got as much time to spend with Rose – or Ron and Hermione – as he would have liked. Ron himself had given the job up gladly after Hermione became pregnant. At first it had to take care of Hermione, who had suffered from terrible vertigo throughout several months of her pregnancy, but he'd quickly realised that he liked it. Taking care of her and Harry, looking after their home and making sure their busy lives ran smoothly were far more satisfying to him than chasing wrongdoers.

Now, six months after Rose's birth, the three of them had settled into a comfortable routine. Ron was glad that they'd all have a bit of time off over the holiday season, though. It was Kingsley himself who'd put his foot down and forced Harry to take an entire fortnight's holiday, which had begun yesterday. Harry, who had protested furiously at first, was already making the most of every moment.

Ron showered in a leisurely fashion, dressed, then tidied the bathroom and bedroom. Hermione was neat enough, but any form of housework made Harry irritable and tense, and, given his upbringing, Ron could not blame him. By the time he returned to the nursery, Rose was sweet-smelling – Harry had no objection whatsoever to baby-care – and giggling on the soft rug while Harry made her toy hippogriff float around her head.

Harry looked up as he entered, and grinned.

"So, what do you want to do today?"

"Up to you," said Ron, dropping onto the rug and tickling Rose's tummy so that she shrieked with delight. "Go on, Harry. What've you been dying to do for the last few months since your last week off? We'll do it."

Harry shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Nah," he said. "It's – nothing."

"What is?"

"No, honestly, it's stupid."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Harry, you know I love you, right?"

Harry's cheeks turned pink.

"Yeah."

"And you know Hermione loves you?"

"Yeah."

"And you love us?"

"Of course!"

"And you trust us?"

"Yes!"

"Then just tell me what the fuck you want to do today."

Harry began to laugh.

It turned out that what Harry wanted was a quiet, ordinary, domestic day. Ron couldn't fathom what Harry found so embarrassing about that, but Harry had grown up with a very unusual set of expectations, so Ron merely shrugged, kissed him hard, and set about making it the perfect day. They lounged about, playing with Rose and watching television. Harry finally got dressed while Ron made lunch, and in the afternoon they went for a walk through the village and into the woods beyond, Harry carrying Rose in the sling. It was a crisp, cold day and their faces were pink and their fingers cold by the time they got home.

Later, as Harry slumped, half dozing, on the sofa while Rose entertained herself with a noisy musical dragon and Ron finished making the preparations for the evening meal, Hermione surprised them by arriving home early. She sank down on the sofa beside Harry, who pulled her in for a sleepy hug, and Ron put the lid on the stew, leaving it to cook. He joined them, engulfing them both in his long arms.

"Only two Elf complaints today," said Hermione, turning her head so that she could plant a kiss on his nose. "You know, I think people are really starting to understand that Elves are just as much people as they are."

"That's brilliant," said Harry.

"You're amazing," agreed Ron. Hermione smiled faintly and slid down to rest her head in Harry's lap. Ron pulled her feet into his and eased her shoes off.

"Actually, I'm quite glad to have a few days off," she went on quietly.

"We're glad too," said Harry, sounding more casual than Ron thought he could have just then. It was rare for Hermione to admit weakness, and almost unknown for her to admit that she might be finding her work difficult. He began to rub her feet, and she made a small sound of pleasure.

"I'm so tired," she said.

"That's because you work incredibly long hours and never get any rest," Ron pointed out. Hermione snorted.

"Yes, well, I'm not stopping," she said, so sharply that Ron couldn't stop himself laughing.

"Obviously," he said. "Idiot. That doesn't mean it can't be easier for you, though. You've got Dobby working in there now, and you've told us how good he is. Maybe your hours don't have to be quite so long."

There was a silence. He continued to rub her feet, and Harry stroked her forehead gently. At last, she heaved a great, gusty, sigh, and said,

"Can we talk about it after Christmas?"

"'Course," said Harry easily.

Ron thought about the question of Harry's own overwork and the way it made him so depressed and anxious, but you couldn't push him the way you could Hermione. She might get angry in the moment, but after she'd calmed down she'd listen properly. Harry, though, became defensive and silent when you challenged him. You had to lead up to things slowly, over a period of days or weeks, depending on what it was. Talking openly about the problems with his job might take him months, with how important he believed it was. Best, thought Ron, to start sowing some seeds.

"Yeah," he said. "We'll talk about it after Christmas. We should talk about you too, Harry, sometime. Can't let Hermione take all my attention."

He flashed Harry a grin, and Harry laughed, though he also looked slightly surprised. Hermione lifted a foot and gave him a gentle kick in the chest, but she knew what he was doing all right. Sure enough, she changed the subject a moment later.

"How's your jumper going, Ron? Did you finish it?"

"Oh." He gulped. "Yeah, nearly. I dunno, though. Maybe it's a weird thing to do. What if Dad thinks – what if no-one likes getting them? You know, from me, I mean."

"No," said Harry. He hesitated, then said in an awkward rush, "You're not taking her place or anything. That's what you're worried about, isn't it? But you're not. You're – you're honouring her."

He trailed off, red in the face. Hermione reached up and patted his face, then looked back at Ron.

"Harry's right," she said firmly. "I think she'd like to know that you were carrying on the tradition. I think she'd be proud of you."

"You're the one who's keeping the family together now," said Harry earnestly. Molly Weasley had been the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known and he'd been as devastated as the Weasleys when she died unexpectedly, just a few weeks after baby Rose had been born. "Someone's got to do it. That's why we're having everyone here for Christmas, isn't it? And why you're doing the jumpers. You're doing… amazing."

He held his hand out to Ron, who took it, and Hermione wrapped both their hands in hers, stroking a soothing thumb over their joined fingers as they rested on her stomach. Ron's eyes blurred.

"Thanks," he said thickly, and jumped up to see to Rose, who had begun to whimper. But when he turned back with her in his arms, Harry and Hermione were both holding out their own arms, and he found himself pulled onto the sofa again, between the two of them, their arms around him and Rose, their gentle, soothing words in his ears, their love, tangible, surrounding him.

All was well.


End file.
